The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory

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      She closed her eyes, trying to blot out their cruel laughter and ugly jests. Then she heard another voice—slow, deep and distinctly British.

      ‘Move away from the lady, my good fellows.’

      Felicity’s eyes flew open. Beyond the thief stood a tall British officer, resplendent in his scarlet tunic. He looked completely at his ease, regarding the scene with a slightly detached air, but when her tormentor pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt the officer grinned.

      ‘I asked you politely,’ he said, drawing his sword. ‘But now I really must insist.’

      With a roar the two men holding Felicity released her and rushed forward to join their comrade. She backed against the wall and watched the red-coated officer swiftly despatch her attackers. He moved with surprising speed and agility. A flick of his sword cut across the first man’s wrist and the knife fell from his useless fingers. A second man screamed as that wicked blade slashed his arm and when the officer turned his attention to the third, the man took to his heels and fled, swiftly followed by his companions.

      The officer wiped his blade and put it away. Sunlight sliced through a narrow gap between the houses and caught the soldier in a sudden shaft of light. His hair gleamed like polished mahogany in the sunshine and he was grinning down at her, amusement shining in his deep brown eyes as if the last few minutes had been some entertaining sport rather than a desperate fight. He was, she realised in a flash, the embodiment of the hero she had always dreamed of.

      ‘Are you hurt, madam?’

      His voice was deep and warm, wrapping around her like velvet. She shook her head.

      ‘I—do not think so. Who are you?’

      ‘Major Nathan Carraway, at your service.’

      ‘Then I thank you for your timely assistance, Major.’

      ‘Come along.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘We should get out of here in case they decide to come back with their friends.’

      ‘But my portmanteau—’

      ‘I think you should resign yourself to its loss, madam. Was it very valuable?’

      ‘Priceless.’ She swallowed. ‘It contains everything I own in the whole world.’ Suddenly she felt quite sick as she realised the enormity of her situation. ‘What am I going to do now? I have nothing, no one…’

      Instinctively she turned to the man at her side. Looking into his eyes she was conscious of a tug of attraction, a sudden conviction that in this man she had found a friend. Her fear and anger faded away. He gave her a slow smile.

      ‘You have me,’ he said.

      ‘Good morning, miss. I’ve brought your hot chocolate.’ Felicity stirred, reluctant to leave her dream, but when the maid threw back the shutters her room was flooded with sunlight, banishing any hope of going back to sleep.

      ‘What time is it, Betsy?’

      ‘Eight o’clock, miss. With Master John and Master Simon gone off to school you said not to wake you too early this morning.’

      Felicity sat up. She hadn’t bargained for the extra hour’s sleep being haunted by her dreams!

      She did not linger in her bed but dressed quickly and made her way down to the schoolroom. It was eerily quiet: after four years of looking after two energetic youngsters and watching them grow into schoolboys it was not surprising that she now missed their presence. As their governess she had grown very fond of them, and they had provided her with an excellent distraction from her constant, aching sadness.

      ‘Fee, Fee, where are you?’

      Felicity heard Lady Souden’s soft calls and hurried across the room to open the door.

      ‘Do you need me? I was just tidying up.’

      Lady Souden entered the sunny schoolroom and looked around, sighing.

      ‘It does seem so quiet with the boys away at school, does it not? But you are no longer the governess here, Felicity.’ She rested her hands upon her stomach. ‘At least not until this little one is of an age to need you.’

      ‘And that will not be for some years yet,’ observed Felicity, smiling.

      ‘I know, but oh, Fee, is it not exciting? The boys are darlings, and I adore being their stepmama, but I cannot wait to have a baby of my own.’ Lydia shook her head, setting her guinea-gold curls dancing. ‘After five years I thought it would never happen! But that is not what I wanted to say to you. Come away now; you do not need to be toiling up here.’

      Felicity scooped up another handful of books from the table.

      ‘This isn’t toiling, Lydia, I enjoy being useful. Besides, the boys will still use this room when they come home, so it is only fitting that it should be as they left it.’

      ‘If it is to be as they left it you had best spread their toys over the floor and pull all the books from the shelves! Oh, Fee, do leave that now and come into the garden with me. It is such a lovely morning and I want to talk to you.’

      ‘Oh, but another five minutes—’

      ‘No, now. It is a command!’

      As Felicity accompanied Lady Souden down the stairs she reflected that few people could have such an undemanding mistress. They had been firm friends at school, and when Felicity had come to her, penniless and desperate to find work, Lydia had cajoled her doting new husband into employing her as a governess to his two young sons—Lydia’s stepchildren. Felicity knew she was very fortunate. Sir James was a considerate employer and she was thankful that her excellent education allowed her to fulfil her duties as governess to his satisfaction. So pleased had he been with her performance that when the boys finally went away to school he raised no objections to Lydia’s suggestion that Felicity should stay on at Souden Hall as her companion. The arrangement worked extremely well, for Sir James was often away from home and said it was a comfort to him to know that his wife was not alone. Felicity’s only complaint was that she had so little to do, but when she taxed Lydia with this, Lady Souden merely laughed and told her to enjoy herself.

      Now, walking in the shrubbery arm in arm with Lydia, Felicity gave a little sigh of contentment.

      ‘Happy?’ asked Lydia.

      Felicity hesitated. She was content: there was a world of difference between that and true happiness, but very few people could aspire to such a luxury. She said, ‘Who could not be in such lovely surroundings? The gardens here at Souden are so beautiful in the spring. Are you still planning to lay out a knot-garden? I have been studying the pattern books in the library and would dearly like to help you draw it up.’

      ‘Oh, yes, if you please, but I am afraid that will have to wait. James has written to say he wants me to join him in London next month. For the Peace Celebrations.’

      ‘Oh. Oh, well, while you are away I could—’

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